


if the world were ending tomorrow

by iphido



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AtsuKita Week, Dreams, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25501807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iphido/pseuds/iphido
Summary: Atsumu suffers from some bad dreams. Shinsuke knows just what to tell him.
Relationships: Kita Shinsuke/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 13
Kudos: 157
Collections: Atsukita Week





	if the world were ending tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> before we begin: warning for a brief, non-graphic, non-firsthand mention of death by drowning. atsumu also has the start of a panic attack that is quickly quelled. + sort-of-implied injury?? it’s vague, i dunno. also, atsumu has black hair in this. that last one isn’t important, i just want you all to be aware of that XD.
> 
> [insp](https://iphido.tumblr.com/iftheworld) \+ [song](https://open.spotify.com/track/3Sy6wgTNEp6vSgLs4EyXAf?si=AI3pfyWQQnag1KJ7zsAXNg)
> 
> this was meant to be a longer fic that incorporates all prompts of atsukita week, but i bit off more than i could chew, so i condensed it into this small thing! enjoy <3

When Atsumu woke, the moon had already disappeared.

He gasped like a fish in the dying twilight. Tears spilled from his eyes into his hairline. His throat was dry, his heart pounding. Before reaching for the bottle of water, he thrust a hand out for Shinsuke. His fingers found soft cotton. He clutched Shinsuke’s shirt, gently, so as not to wake him.

Shinsuke breathed deep and slow, steady as the face of a mountain. Atsumu matched the rhythm as best he could. When his heart calmed, he closed his eyes and imagined the dark outline of Shinsuke’s body. When the room began to lighten, he rolled over to take that sip of water. It was a cool blessing down his throat.

Atsumu settled on his back. Floating. Listening. Inhale. Exhale.

The tide kissing the shore. Smoke rising from a chimney. The single, grounding step into setting position, then—the toss.

An hour later, Shinsuke jerked awake. Stretched like a cat. He got up, made some noise in the bathroom, returned to pull on his work clothes. The bed dipped as he pressed a knee into the mattress. He kissed Atsumu’s forehead, then his lips.

“See you at lunch,” Shinsuke whispered.

Atsumu hummed. Then he slept.

  
  
  


The salmon sizzled in the pan. In Atsumu’s honest and humble opinion, it smelled better than anything his brother had whipped up recently. Osamu would either cry tears of pride or club him over the head for saying so; it depended on the day.

Behind him, the screen door slid open. “Hi, darlin’,” Atsumu called over his shoulder.

“Smells good, Tsumu,” Shinsuke said. The sink turned on as he washed his hands for probably the nth time that day. The water shut off, and when Atsumu flipped the salmon, a warm presence appeared at his side. Shinsuke rubbed the small of his back.

Atsumu leaned down for a kiss. “Sleep well, Shin-kun?”

Shinsuke nodded. He rested his chin against Atsumu’s shoulder. “Did you?”

“M-hm,” he lied.

A hand slid into his hair, tousling the dark locks. “You need a haircut,” Shinsuke murmured.

Atsumu checked the underside of the salmon: it was the perfect color. “Cut it for me later? Oh, couldja get the plates too?”

“Tomorrow.” Shinsuke pressed another kiss under his jaw before backing away. “There’s still a patch I need to nurture in the southeast corner.” He returned with two plates already piled with fluffy rice.

Atsumu slid the spatula under the salmon, set it down on the bed of white. He did it again for the other, scooped a spoonful of scallions on top for presentation, and beamed.

“Osamu taught ya well,” Shinsuke said, moving to the dining table.

“Hey!” Atsumu turned off the stove and hung his apron. “We share the same DNA. I have the same cooking gene that he does.”

Shinsuke smiled at him, hair tousled prettily and slightly shiny with sweat. “He did show ya the recipe for agedashi tofu, though.”

Atsumu dropped into the chair across from him. “And who makes it for ya every other week?”

Shinsuke reached over and pinched his cheek. “You do. Thank you, Atsumu.”

“Anythin’ for you, Shinsuke.”

In unison, they clapped their hands together, dipped their heads in thanks, and ate.

  
  
  


It happened again the following night. Atsumu cried himself awake, shivered, and had to hold Shinsuke’s small hand until he stopped shaking. Shinsuke stirred when he twined their fingers together, but did not wake. Atsumu heard the roaring of waves in his ears; the rush of blood.

For two hours he lay there in fitful half-sleep. Phantom pain burst all over his body: soreness in his arms, a cramp in his side, the _snap_ of tendon in his right ankle. He couldn’t help but squeeze Shin’s hand at each small flare of pain.

Too many years of pushing his body to its limits. Somehow he always treated himself better when Shinsuke was near.

The light past his eyelids turned purple-gray-yellow, impossible to ignore. Shinsuke’s breathing shifted. When he got up, so did Atsumu.

“I’ll go with you,” Atsumu said. “Slacked off yesterday anyway.”

“Well, ya cooked lunch n’ dinner. That counts for something.”

“I’ll cook today, too. Or we could have the teriyaki leftovers. Either way, I get t’watch a farm hunk tend to some grass.”

Shinsuke rolled his eyes. “This farm hunk is gonna make ya get dirty today for that.”

“I’m a mere mortal, Shin-san. Don’t blame me for my awe.”

“Headin’ out in six minutes. Don’t get left behind.” Shinsuke slipped past him, out of the bathroom. Atsumu spit out the toothpaste and hurried to finish getting ready.

They took the truck on the short drive out to the field. They toiled, weaved through the lines of grass, tended to the spot Shinsuke had mentioned yesterday. The rice was almost ready to harvest. The white flowers were closed and, in the stillness of the early morning, did not blink. They hardly moved at all.

“Go rest in the truck,” Shinsuke said after they’d been out a few hours. He held a hand up to quell Atsumu’s protests. “Don’t aggravate yer back.”

Atsumu acquiesced. He sat, legs dangling off the edge of the truck. Shinsuke looked so small from this distance. Atsumu fisted his hands in the sturdy cloth of his overalls and forced his breaths to come slow and even. Dreams were only dreams. The sun, the dirt, Shinsuke—those were real.

At eleven, they drove back home. Atsumu tugged Shinsuke into the bathroom with him, swore they were ‘saving money this way’, and stole kisses under the stream of water.

They heated up the teriyaki from two days ago and ate together, the way they always did. Once the dishes were washed, Shinsuke unearthed the pouch with the clippers from under the bathroom sink. Atsumu sat on a stool by the window and let Shinsuke throw a plastic bag over his shoulders to catch the hair.

Hair-cutting was a skill Shinsuke had learned, bizarrely, from Tobio-kun’s older sister, some years ago. The clippers whirred and buzzed. Atsumu sat very still. Careful hands guided it along the sides of his head. Shinsuke made sure to sweep the clumps from his neck and shoulders because he knew Atsumu would trick himself into thinking they were bugs.

It didn’t take very long, start to finish. Shinsuke stood in front of him, threaded a hand from his hairline to his crown. Then he reached into the pouch, pulled out tweezers, and plucked the hair between Atsumu’s eyebrows for good measure.

“Do I look good?” Atsumu said.

“Sure,” said Shinsuke.

“Shin-kun!” he pouted.

“Of course ya do.”

Atsumu smiled, standing to grab the broom and sweep up the tufts of black.

“I hafta go into town to get Yamamoto-san his groceries for the week,” Shinsuke said after he put away the pouch.

A strange spike of fear nipped at Atsumu’s stomach. “I’ll go with ya.”

Shinsuke raised his brows. “Yer awfully clingy today.”

“I wanna show off my hair, Shin. The town will learn that ya have the best rice in Japan _and_ grade-A barber skills.”

Shinsuke shook his head, laughing. “Alright, grab yer keys. We hafta get the good watermelon or Yamamoto-san will complain.

Atsumu tossed the pile of hair into the trash bin. He scurried to the door and grabbed the car keys from the hook. “Let’s go!”

  
  
  


Atsumu gasped awake for the fourth night in a row. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “No, no, nononono,” he muttered.

The bed shifted. A _click_. The lamp flickered on. Shinsuke held his upper half up with an elbow; the other hand came to rest on Atsumu’s chest. “Tsumu? What’s wrong?”

Meeting his eyes—Shinsuke, right in front of him, in bed with him—Atsumu promptly burst into tears.

Shinsuke, alarmed, sat up fully and held Atsumu’s shaking shoulders. “Atsumu!”

 _Crybaby_ , Atsumu heard in his brother’s voice. He used to cry at everything as a kid, until he didn’t. The fear and restlessness of the past week had caught up to him.

“Shin-kun,” he said. “I’m sorry, just— a minute.”

“I’m here, baby.” Shinsuke didn’t move for a few seconds. Then he guided Atsumu to sit against the headboard.

Atsumu wheezed a few more wet breaths and wiped tears from his face. “I’ve… been havin’ bad dreams lately,” he began.

“I know. I noticed two nights ago.” When Atsumu lifted his head, Shinsuke merely shrugged. “Figured you’d tell me eventually if it was really somethin’ to worry over.”

Atsumu rubbed his nose. “I’m tellin’ ya now.”

Shinsuke held his hand the same way he had, unknowingly, for several nights now. “What’re they about?”

All this time, Atsumu had done his best to not think about them. But when you had the same dream for almost a week straight, you couldn’t help but remember. He took a deep breath. “They’re all the same one. Every night. I’m standin’ on the porch right next to the monstera plant. I can see the paddies easily from my spot. Yer in the field, with a little round brim hat and overalls. I can never see yer face but I know it’s you. Sometimes I call your name five, six times, sometimes only once. But ya never turn to look at me.

“And then I hear a roar. It sounds like a lion or a bonfire, and before I can say anythin’, the waves come and flood the field all at once. And you’re—” Atsumu blinked away tears. “You’re swept away with all our rice and I try to speak but my stupid voice won’t work. I can’t move, either, ‘s like my feet are glued down, and all I can do is watch ya disappear.”

The image flashed in his mind. It wasn’t a memory. It couldn’t be a memory, it was too vivid. Shinsuke, a tiny smudge in the distance, lost to the ocean blue. Atsumu’s chest seized. He sucked air in and out, but it wasn’t enough—

“Breathe, Atsumu.” Shinsuke’s voice was like a blanket. He laid a hand over Atsumu’s heart. “Hold it,” he said, and after seven seconds, “let it go.”

Atsumu leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his husband. He felt like a stupid kid again, like when he’d get too pissed that his spikers weren’t hitting well. He’d needed Samu or Shinsuke to talk some sense into him.

“We’re hundreds of kilometers from the sea,” Shinsuke said into his hair. “Unless somethin’ truly cataclysmic happens, I’m not gonna drown in the field.”

“Tell me why I feel like I’ll die if I’m not next t’you,” Atsumu said. “Like I’ll die if I stay in this house.”

“This house has been good to you,” Shinsuke chided.

“Why do I feel like you’ll leave me soon?”

“ _Never_.” Shinsuke detached himself, only to lean forward and kiss him. “You silly boy.”

“I’m notta boy.”

“You are to me. My golden boy.”

Atsumu kissed him once, then again. “Don’t ever leave me, Shinsuke.”

“Never in a million years.” Shinsuke brushed his cheeks with the back of a gentle finger. “Dreams are only dreams.”

“Prove it.” Atsumu clutched Shinsuke’s waist.

“I’m right here.” Shinsuke was already pulling his shirt over his head. He held Atsumu’s face and kissed him deeply.

The sun inched above the horizon. Light filled the room. Atsumu sat back and let Shinsuke show him.

  
  
  


Later, Atsumu was forced to stay home. “You already strained yerself this morning,” Shinsuke said as he put on his boots.

“Strained myself!” Atsumu protested. “I’m not an old man!”

“I’ll be back for lunch. Entertain yerself ‘til then.” Shinsuke stuffed his pant legs into his shoes and straightened. “Now kiss me.”

Atsumu sighed. “Fine.” He bent. Their lips met for the hundredth time that day. It wasn’t even seven. “I love you, Shin-kun.”

“I love you too. I’ll be back before ya know it.”

Atsumu stood on the front porch and watched their red truck disappear in the distance. He went back inside, sent Iwa-san a text, and did the stretches he was told to. Downward dog, dolphin, plank, cobra, then that in the reverse order. He straightened his legs into a standing forward bend and felt the stretch in his hamstrings. His head was warm and cottony. Dreams were only dreams. Shinsuke was in the field, on solid ground, far, far away from the sea.

  
  
  


After dinner, Shinsuke held him on the couch while they watched a comedy show. Each laugh was an earthquake against Atsumu’s cheek. Once they’d gotten ready for bed, Shinsuke curled into Atsumu’s side and rest his head on his shoulder. Atsumu stared at the ceiling. They were silent.

“Don’t be afraid,” Shinsuke whispered after a while. “I’m right here.”

Atsumu released the breath in his lungs. “I know. G’night, Shin-kun.”

“Goodnight, Tsumu.”

He closed his eyes, and dreamed.

  
  
  


He wasn’t on the porch, or in the house, or anywhere near home at all. He was in the club room before morning practice. Atsumu dashed to the tiny wall mirror and checked his reflection; he was sixteen and bottle blond.

The door opened, and someone stepped in.

“Shin—” Atsumu stopped himself. It was strange to say _Shinsuke_ in this place. “Kita-san.”

“Mornin’, Atsumu,” Kita said. His hair was parted into three pointy sections and his face was rounder. “Did I make ya wait long?”

“No, I just got here,” Atsumu said. “Why’re we here?”

Instead of going to his locker, Kita sat on the bench and patted the space beside him. Atsumu plopped down.

“I dunno, this is your dream,” Kita said. “Should we try to figure it out?”

Atsumu stared at the row of lockers in front of him. They were a faded dark blue; he thought he’d have forgotten the shade by now. “Nah,” he said. “This might be when I fell in love with ya the first time.”

He glanced to the side. Kita was blushing. _That_ look, Atsumu only knew after going pro. Kita cleared his throat. “What should we do, then?”

Atsumu knew the answer before the question had left Kita’s mouth. “Wanna hit some of my tosses?”

Kita’s smile was warm and alive. “Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> the iconic phrase “golden boy” is originally from gray’s amazing fic [dreams of me and you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23589904/chapters/56602438)!! thank you so much for reading


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